


Clark's Choice

by glymr



Category: DCU - Comicverse, Superman/Batman (Comics)
Genre: Fluff, Help Haiti, M/M, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-14
Updated: 2010-01-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 19:00:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/802089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glymr/pseuds/glymr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Batman did not tolerate being manhandled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clark's Choice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Northern_Star](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Northern_Star/gifts).



> Written for Northern_Star's Help Haiti donation.

"Just lie *down*," said Superman, pinning Bruce to the bed. The man was as stubborn as he was brilliant, damn him. Bruce struggled in his grip, and if he'd been less tired, less tense, Clark knew that he would surely have found a way out of it. "I can be stubborn, too, Bruce," said Clark irritably. "Now get out of that suit before I rip it off you."

Bruce gave him a dirty look, but started unfastening the armor. Clark let him up enough to slide it off, then, when he was down to his tights, grabbed him and flipped him onto his stomach.

"Clark," said Bruce warningly. Batman did not tolerate being manhandled.

"Lie _still_ ," growled Clark, and put his hands on Bruce's back.

Bruce sucked in a breath and Clark pressed down slightly, knowing that his inhuman heat was seeping into Bruce's iron-hard muscles, soothing them. "You didn't have a choice," said Clark, more quietly. "You were stuck in front of that computer for three days, trying to track down Braniac in the system." Bruce groaned as Clark began to knead his muscles, exquisitely sensitive to the slightest flinch of pain. "You don't have a choice now, either," said Clark with a slight smile as his x-ray vision showed the tension finally, *finally* beginning to flow away from Bruce. "No choice at all."

Bruce groaned again, and after that neither of them spoke for a long time as Clark's warm hands pushed and pulled gently, working every ounce of tightness from his body, wringing out the tension until until he was as relaxed as Clark had ever seen him.

Lifting the blanket, Clark drew it over him, warm and soft. Bruce's breathing was even. Clark paused a moment, then leaned down and brushed his lips against the back of Bruce's neck, a brief breath of a moment. Straightening, he turned to go.

"Clark," came the whisper, too soft for anyone else to hear, and Clark stopped, listening. "Thank you."


End file.
